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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223727">portraiture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepuck/pseuds/a-bigail'>a-bigail (spacepuck)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pining, can i offer you some gay yearning in this trying time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:34:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepuck/pseuds/a-bigail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He noticed as the sunset made his skin err towards tawny, the way it often turned in the summer, a collection of long weekends at the sea layering on him before the new semester would peel them away in half tones. Within the lengthened shadows was the shift of exaggerated legs, his arm made long and vampiric as he stretched it out from his body and took it back in. His hand pressed again to the notebook where, Yuki knew though he couldn’t see, small cartoons and doodles marked the margins. Correct answers circled multiple times over, mistakes crumpled and half-faded from a hasty erase. </p><p>He thought of the dark smudge of graphite that had probably stained the side of his hand. How it was probably marking up his notebook. How he probably wouldn’t even notice until it was pointed out to him.</p><p>How he’d laugh about it.</p><p>--</p><p>Kakeru comes over to study. Yuki studies him in turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Manabe Kakeru/Sohma Yuki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>portraiture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>How rare were these moments, Yuki thought, that Kakeru fitted himself neatly into the silence of the day.</p><p>As he stepped out of his room, seeking out another glass of water before returning to study, he caught the back of his friend’s head as it rested against the arm of the couch. Ears covered with his headphones, music faint and wavering. He bobbed his head absently to the tune. At times, he hummed; a murmur of a lyric here, a mumble at his frustration with homework there. Legs bent and crossed, ankle to knee, with his notebook pressed against his thigh.</p><p>It was sunset. The room glowed orange. </p><p>Yuki could have noticed the dust strung in the air and thought to himself that, perhaps, he should clean soon. Or, he could have noticed how the light made the shadows of the room grow long and dark, a reminder that it was about time to ask what they should order for dinner, knowing full-well that his friend would insist on getting out of the apartment instead to escape from the walls and their long hours of studying. </p><p>He didn’t think of those things. </p><p>He noticed as the sunset made his skin err towards tawny, the way it often turned in the summer, a collection of long weekends at the sea layering on him before the new semester would peel them away in half tones. Within the lengthened shadows was the shift of exaggerated legs, his arm made long and vampiric as he stretched it out from his body and took it back in. His hand pressed again to the notebook where, Yuki knew though he couldn’t see, small cartoons and doodles marked the margins. Correct answers circled multiple times over, mistakes crumpled and half-faded from a hasty erase. </p><p>He thought of the dark smudge of graphite that had probably stained the side of his hand. How it was probably marking up his notebook. How he probably wouldn’t even notice until it was pointed out to him.</p><p>How he’d laugh about it.</p><p>Yuki finally turned away into the kitchen, feeling that uncomfortable burn take over his neck. It was becoming too familiar, he thought, and as he pressed his palms against the cooled countertops, he willed himself to rewrite those thoughts.</p><p>
  <em> Kakeru is doing homework in the next room over. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sun is setting. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s almost time for dinner. </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>“Did Machi call you to tell you she almost burned her apartment down again?”</p><p>He asked this with his mouth half-full, one cheek rounded with food while his hand came up to shield his mouth. Palm facing out for Yuki to see the shine of graphite smudged thick along the length of his pinky, pronounced under the fluorescent light that made the diner feel uncomfortably awake.</p><p>Yuki set down his coffee. He paused his distracted toying, stilling the emptied sugar packet beneath his fingertip, and regarded Kakeru with a dubious stare. </p><p>“What? No, she didn’t— Is she okay?”</p><p>“Mhm, mhm.” Kakeru nodded, pausing to swallow before lowering his hand with a mollifying wave. “She’s fine. I mean, her <em> kitchen </em> isn’t, there’s this whole part of the wall that’s just— <em> fwoosh. </em>Big ugly burnt spot, right when you walk in. Right above the counter where she keeps all those creepy thrift store figurines.” </p><p>He passed his napkin over his hand and glanced down to inspect the stubborn stain. Though he gave a reprimanding click of his tongue, he didn’t repress the smile humoring his features.</p><p>“I swear those things are cursed,” he said. <em> “She </em> says it was an exposed wire in her toaster, <em> I’m </em>saying it’s those little bastards looking for vengeance.”</p><p>Though he averted his eyes to seek out another napkin, Yuki watched as the suggestion granted him a small spark in his expression, easing the usual abrasion of his gaze into something a note gentler.</p><p>His sister seldom reached out to him on her own accord. But, when she did — when he got the message from her directly and not through some game of operator, where Yuki near always featured as the middleman — a quiet light lingered on his features for a time after. A subtle ease of his knifepoint grin, a relax in the demanding line of his shoulders. It wasn’t sentiment that etched him this way, but rather a hopeful, private pride. His confidence became warm, and with it his nature became something malleable. </p><p>Happy, was what it was. </p><p>He was simply happy.</p><p>A prickle cascaded down the back of Yuki’s neck. He clasped his hand over it to push it away.   </p><p>“They’re not that bad,” he said. Kakeru gave a doubting hum through his straw as he took a lengthy sip of his drink. “I’m sure it was just a new toaster.”</p><p>“Okay, but she could just like, scratch up the sides or something if she wants to mess it up. Trying to dig the wires out of it? That’s kinda a stretch, even for her”</p><p>Yuki gave him a look. Kakeru raised his brows in response.</p><p>“Are you seriously trying to pass this off as the <em> dolls </em>doing it?”</p><p>“What! They have hands, don’t they? Most of them?” </p><p>Yuki tried to swallow back the laugh riding up his throat. He slid his hand away from his neck to press its back to his mouth, where he felt his smile shift against his skin.</p><p>“You’re so— They are <em> not </em>possessed.”</p><p>“They are too! Have you— don’t laugh!— have you <em> seriously </em> never walked into that place and <em> not </em>felt all their creepy little eyes on you?” </p><p>Yuki sputtered into his hand. Kakeru reached across the table to backhand his arm. </p><p>“You’re so paranoid,” Yuki laughed.</p><p>“They did it! I know they did.” Kakeru picked up his glass and set it down hard to the table, the noise and gesture finalizing. “They’re the concoction of pure evil and she just gravitates towards them like they’re kittens or something.”</p><p>“Have you thought that <em> maybe </em>you just don’t like the idea of your sister willfully electrocuting herself?”</p><p>Kakeru slouched back into his booth with a huff, crossing his arms in contemplation. Under the table, the adjustment of his legs sent his knee sidling against Yuki’s.</p><p>Yuki let the contact sit for half a moment before drawing away. </p><p>“Nah,” Kakeru concluded. “It’s the damn figurines. I don’t trust them.”</p><p>Yuki huffed a laugh. He dipped his head, bringing his attention back to the empty sugar packet, and pressed his finger to the loose granules as he willed his face to remain unaffected. </p><p>In his peripherals, he could see their translucent reflections in the window. He willed himself not to look — to avoid seeing his own demeanor, sheepish as he feared it to be, and to avoid falling to the sheer cowardice of looking only at the false imprint of the boy sitting just across from him, as though it would be good or close enough. Dampered under the fluorescents, he was sure, muted by the darkened street that filtered through his features. If he were to look (and he <em> wouldn’t </em>look), he would only be met with an optical illusion. Kakeru’s hair disappearing into the bike lane. His nose double-crossed by a lamppost. The whole of his face becoming blurry as Yuki’s vision ached to focus on the scene beyond him, but not quite able to ignore the stark halo drawing the shape of his skull, the line of his neck, the ghosted suspension of his hands passing from table to face— </p><p>He was looking.</p><p>Kakeru’s reflection was wholly unaware. The half of him that Yuki could see sank into the dark of the outside; his profile, outlined in a light that turned milky in the window, filled with asphalt and the distant yellow of living rooms and corner shops. Yuki followed that line as it shaped the slope of his nose, his mouth, his chin, until it disappeared into the table, the booth, and the scene beyond where they sat. A spot tucked into the corner of the diner, chosen through a lens where the suspension of disbelief named it <em> theirs. </em> The slow acquaintance with the chip along the table’s edge on Yuki’s side, the wearing crack of the vinyl booth seats, veins they had traced their fingers along in idle times. The coffee ring stain in the center of the table that had preceded even them, circling in its ouroboros state in such a way that, at times, Yuki wondered about their final meal there together — if they would be aware of its finality, or if they would spend it oblivious, leaving it as another memory that needed no closure. How the stain would exist beyond them, probably, holding that ending for them in their stead.</p><p>He wondered now about that future time. He wondered if he would still be sitting this way, watching Kakeru’s reflection in the window and simultaneously feeling the direct lay of his friend’s eyes on him. If he would still be feeling the bite of his lacking courage turning him sore. If this was how the two of them were going to operate up until the end: watching each other, directly and not, momentarily quiet and unobstructive. Tiptoeing along the edge of their silence, balanced between strung and comfortable, as words continued to crest to his throat only fail him.</p><p>The moment didn’t last long. The milky outline shifted. Kakeru knocked his knee soft against Yuki’s again as he straightened himself, releasing a pleased sigh and some words about needing to get back to studying. Yuki’s eyes adjusted on the street beyond the diner’s glossy overlay and found it perfectly still.</p><p>When he brought his attention back to his friend, seeing again all the things that were lost on his phantom in the window, he forced a smile. He agreed. The words aggravated the bruised sensation laid deep in his chest, and he struggled to soothe it, as a tired parent fails to quiet a fussing child.</p><p>
  <em> It was just his knee hitting mine by accident. </em>
</p><p>Kakeru rose, knocking a short beat to the top of the table. He patted his jeans for his wallet, his keys, as he always did.</p><p>
  <em> It was just a reflection in the window. </em>
</p><p>Yuki trailed him as they exited. Kakeru’s hands swung back as he walked; Yuki shoved his hands into his pockets in turn.</p><p>
  <em> I shouldn’t be thinking about this. </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> “Hah.” </em>
</p><p>Yuki looked up at the sound of Kakeru tossing his pencil down at the table, his exhale sharp at completing another round of study questions. But rather than meeting what might have been his friend’s look of frustration, or triumph, he was met instead with the stark white of a sheet bouncing to his nose, obstructing his vision.</p><p>“Check this for me?”</p><p>"Geez, could you just—” Yuki leaned back enough to send an annoyed glare across the living room table, where he received his friend’s unapologetic stare. Kakeru shook the paper in his direction, brows rising with question, and Yuki mumbled as he took it from him and sat straight again. "You could just hand it to me like a normal person."</p><p>"I did hand it to you!”</p><p>"As always, your listening skills are impeccable. Let’s see.” </p><p>Relieved from his hunched position, Kakeru stretched his arms back. Yuki placed the worksheet before him, covering up his own studies, and scanned over the first question.</p><p>
  <em>1. Which orbitals cannot—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>1. Which orbitals cannot—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>1. Which orbitals cannot—</em>
</p><p>He grew distracted by the scene beyond his lashes, of Kakeru stretching his shoulders, lingering on his right for a time before swinging it out again. Watching him draw his arms back in, cracking his knuckles in thick <em> pops, </em>and watching him shift in his spot in search for a more comfortable position.</p><p>At his eventual stillness, Yuki tried again. He noted the ease of some of his answers, while others ran grey with multiple erases and re-tries. There was the small spiraling doodle in the top right corner, dotted with what had earlier been the low tapping of his pencil tip as he had paused to work the questions in his head.</p><p>They sat in silence for a time, until Yuki turned the paper around and slid it back across to him.</p><p>“Number five is wrong.”</p><p>“Damn, really?”</p><p>“Mhm.” </p><p>Kakeru raised his chin from his palm, forearm coming down to lay flat against the table as he looked back at his answers. Yuki watched the idle drumming of his fingers, and, after a prolonged silence, was ready to offer his help before Kakeru perked with realization.</p><p>“Got it?” Yuki asked.</p><p>“Uh-huhn.” Kakeru made quick work of remedying the mistake, and, tossing his pencil down again with a sigh, said, “Lucky me that I have a friend who already went through this garbage.”</p><p>Yuki pressed his mouth into his hand, hiding the quirking smile that rose at his friend’s indignant pout.</p><p>“It’s not garbage, it’s chemistry,” he said. He smoothed his mouth into something less affronting and drew his hand away. “And you wouldn’t think it was garbage if you just practiced it more.”</p><p>“Doubt that. But, whatever.” He slid the worksheet into the front of his textbook and, the weight of studying lifted, he set himself into a comfortable slouch, settling his cheek into his hand again and flashing Yuki a grin. “Thanks for actually coming out of your cave to help me study.”</p><p>“My cave?”</p><p>“Yeah, you know, that hovel you call a bedroom.”</p><p>Yuki huffed. He drew his eyes back down to his own textbook, at the same figures and paragraphs that he had been pretending to focus on for the past hour. Opened to the same page he had been reading at his desk when Kakeru had let himself in with the announcement that he needed help studying, and that Yuki was his only hope in passing his exam set for the following morning. A lie that uncovered itself without much prodding as, even with the occasional wrong answer, it was clear he knew what he was doing. </p><p>And it wasn’t that Yuki didn’t know this to be the case. Kakeru was self-sufficient. For as long as they had known each other, he had never really needed Yuki’s help with much.</p><p><em> You knew this, </em> he chided, <em> and agreed to ‘help’ him anyway. </em></p><p>Maybe he should have been flattered by what was simply his friend’s want for his company. He thought as much as he passed his finger over the paragraph in his book that had since become a halted string of nothing words, made incomprehensible by the extra presence in the room.</p><p>
  <em> Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance states—  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance states—  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance states—  </em>
</p><p>“Well, you’re welcome,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Hey, why don’t we study together more often, anyway? We used to do it all the time.”</p><p>Yuki stopped his finger. He raised his eyes to look at Kakeru and found him scrolling idly through his phone, terribly cavalier despite the question striking Yuki’s nerves. </p><p>An answer stalked the forefront of his mind, too quick to form. His shoulders grew stiff.</p><p>
  <em> Because you’re too distracting. </em>
</p><p>“You get distracted too easily,” he corrected. “You would always use me as an out, remember?”</p><p>Kakeru looked at him at that, brows raised and expression humored. </p><p>“What? Name <em> one </em> time I did that.”</p><p>Yuki gave him a quietly challenging stare. He raised his hand, fingers splayed.</p><p>“Let’s see. When we tried to study after student council and instead you paraded me around the school looking for your ‘lost’ textbook, only for you to reveal—what, an<em> hour </em> later?—that it was in your bag the whole time. Or, every time you invited me to your apartment, only for you to say that it was a ‘momentous occasion’ and you would show me the neighborhood and introduce me to all your neighbors. <em> Again.”  </em></p><p>He lowered his fingers as he spoke. As Kakeru gave him an amused grin, he drew his attention to his hand instead. </p><p>“The one time you insisted on showing me every single video game in your collection, and proceeded to <em> demo </em>all of them,” he said, drawing another finger down. “That time you deemed it finally appropriate for me meet Nakao-san’s mother, even though—”</p><p><em>“Okay,” </em>Kakeru interrupted, somewhat harshed. “I get it, geez.” </p><p>Yuki looked up again. Though he smiled through the exasperation, something sore tinged his words. Yuki set his hand down in his lap. An apology crept through him, but he quelled it.</p><p><em> It was easier back then, </em> he thought, <em> because you had a girlfriend. </em></p><p>“I’m just saying,” he placated, “I’m not exactly at a loss for reasons.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. But <em> I’m </em> just saying that maybe this—” Kakeru gestured a hand between himself and Yuki over the table. “—works better now. Like, I <em> did </em>actually work this time.”</p><p>Yuki looked down again at his textbook. He slid his hand carefully under the front and closed it.</p><p>“You did,” he conceded. “This time.”</p><p>At that, they fell into a short quiet. Within it, a gentle patter against the balcony became known. Slow at first, until it began to beat more readily, clanging against the railing and few ceramic pots barren with the season. </p><p>Yuki looked behind Kakeru, watching as a light rain began to fall against the glass door, illuminated only by his neighbor’s back light. Kakeru twisted, too, and hummed a sigh at the sight.</p><p>“Shit. I should go.” </p><p>He didn’t stand. Not right away, at least. Yuki glided his attention back to him, and as his friend kept a steady focus on the door, watching the glass blur, he wondered if he was going to turn around and ask to stay the night. </p><p>But, he didn’t. He stood, stretching his arms up again, going on tiptoe. He checked the time on his phone as he brought himself back down, and frowned as he crouched to grab his textbook off the floor.</p><p>He muttered the hour to himself. Then, at Yuki, “Remind me never to take an 8am again in my life.”</p><p>Yuki looked up at him as he remained seated. He watched as he grabbed his backpack from the couch, sliding the book and his notes inside, and watched as he looked out at the rain again. Contemplating, he knew, even though the walk home was short and the weather light enough to ignore. </p><p>Still. A part of him hoped he would ask. </p><p>Kakeru tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, and it was his walking away to the front of the apartment that prompted Yuki to finally stand and see him out. He followed in slow steps, until he stopped to lean his shoulder into the genkan’s entryway, observing his friend tug his sneakers on.</p><p>“Well.” Kakeru straightened again and, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, gave Yuki a short wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Uh, sure.” Yuki brought his hand up, brushing his fingertips over the shell of his ear. An old uncomfortable habit. He caught the bend of his elbow with his other hand, and though the gesture made him feel somewhat childish, he didn’t loosen himself from it. “Lunch, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, I think so — depends if this test will kill me or not.” Kakeru shrugged, nonchalant as he said, “You might have to pry my dead body off the floor. You can cremate me over the Bunsens.” </p><p>Yuki scoffed a small laugh. “And ruin the chem lab? No, thanks.”</p><p>“Aw, come on.”</p><p>“They <em> just </em>remodeled, Kakeru.”</p><p>“Fine, fine. If dying is going to be <em> that </em>burdensome on you, I guess I just won’t fail, then.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Yeah. I’ll even write a dedication for you at the top: <em> Taken with the confidence and inspiration instilled in me by Yuki Sohma, without whom this exam would surely be merely another disgraceful stain upon this department.” </em></p><p>Yuki stuck his leg out at him, shoving him with his foot. Kakeru grabbed his ankle, grin falling mischievous, until Yuki yanked himself out of his grasp. </p><p>“Idiot. Don’t write that.”</p><p>“Well, now I <em> have </em> to. You’ve left me no choice.”</p><p>He said the words with some finality. Before Yuki could form a response, he turned on his heel and reached for the door, and looked back again with a smile and wave. </p><p>“Later, Yun-Yun.”</p><p>“Uh—”</p><p>Kakeru stopped at the noise, door half-open. The cool humidity hit Yuki square, and he brought his arms to cross his chest. A chill ran through him. </p><p>He looked briefly at the thin sheet of rain. The words came quick to the back of his throat. </p><p>
  <em> Stay the night. </em>
</p><p>"Sorry," he said instead. For what exactly, he couldn’t begin to place. It fell from him again. “Sorry. Good luck."</p><p>Kakeru nodded. And with a promise that he would text him when it was over, and another goodbye, he was gone. Rain muted as he shut the door behind him. The sound of his footsteps quickly descending to nothing as he returned to the street.</p><p>Yuki continued to stand there, staring at the door. Part of him hoped for him to return, letting himself in with a laugh and an “actually, would you mind,” while the other part exhaled with some relief. But, as he continued to stare in waiting, the former began to eclipse the latter, and he shook himself to turn away back into his apartment.</p><p>He tried to ignore how empty things felt.</p><p>He sat again in the living room, eyeing his textbook, and then the balcony. The rain came down thick yet sparse.</p><p>Beside him, his phone rang, and he reprimanded the surge disappointment at seeing it wasn't him. He picked it up, answering,</p><p>"Machi?" </p><p>
  <em> "Yuki." </em>
</p><p>"Uh, hey.” He sat back against the arm of the couch, facing the window and drawing his knees up. “How’s your apartment? Still a fire hazard?”</p><p>She huffed. <em> “It’s fine. You told Kakeru that I called him first about it.” </em></p><p>He paused. She waited.</p><p>“...He told you?”</p><p>
  <em> “He texted me for twenty minutes straight over it.” </em>
</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>
  <em> “I blocked his number.” </em>
</p><p>“Machi.”</p><p>
  <em> “Yuki.” </em>
</p><p>He sighed, shifting in his spot to sit up straighter. She could be terribly blunt when she felt like it. </p><p>“You know, he probably wouldn’t get so over-excited about it if you called him more often.”</p><p>
  <em> “Doubtful.” </em>
</p><p>“I’m serious.” He let one leg dangle off the edge of the couch, his heel falling against the floor. He looked down the length of it. “He likes when you call him. It makes him really happy.” </p><p><em> Really happy. </em>He couldn’t even begin to describe it to her, least of all in a way she would believe. The fact that it was expressed with a quiet that smoothed his harsher edges, something gentle and hard to notice. Subtle, and on the surface, un-Kakeru. </p><p>The idea of it made him restless. He swiveled, planting both feet to the floor, and stood. </p><p>“I think he just…likes feeling that he’s someone you can depend on.” He paced as he spoke, hand catching the bend of his elbow again as he felt a pang gnaw him. “Even if it’s just with little things. And, I know— he can be a lot. But… I don’t know. Maybe he just wants things to be right between you.”</p><p>She had gone quiet. Apprehensive. Despite his defense, he understood her position too well, and continued, saying,</p><p>“And maybe he’s bad at that. I don’t know. And if you don’t really want that from him, that’s fine. But he’s not being annoying about it for the sake of being annoying. He’s just…” </p><p><em> He’s just trying to understand you. </em>He paced into the kitchen, swallowing the thickness that had formed in his throat. Something guilty whorled in him, vestigial feelings that had afflicted him until recently, and he stopped to lean against the counter in an off-attempt to settle his thoughts. He looked down at the floor, quieting.</p><p>After some pause on his end, Machi finally spoke again.</p><p>
  <em> “I… know that.”  </em>
</p><p>“Sorry,” he said. He brushed his bangs back with his fingers, looking up again with a sigh. “It’s not my business.”</p><p>
  <em> “It’s not that. I—” </em>
</p><p>Something caught Yuki’s eye as he brought his attention back to his kitchen. It sat out of place despite the mess on his counters, something familiar but not his, perched in its small heap beside the sink.</p><p>“Hold— Sorry, hold on.”</p><p>He stepped toward it. He picked it up between his fingers, and cursed as it jangled.</p><p>Kakeru’s keys. </p><p>Outside, the sky rumbled. He looked. What they had understood to be a gentle rain was cresting into an out-of-season storm. It began to batter his kitchen window, and, brusque, he left the room, pocketing the keyring as he started for his jacket at the entrance of his apartment.</p><p>
  <em> “Yuki?” </em>
</p><p>“Sorry, uh— Kakeru left his keys here. He just left. I have to go.” He tugged his jacket’s sleeves over his arms, his phone pressed between his shoulder and cheek before taking it in hand again. “I’ll call you back, okay?”</p><p>
  <em> “Um, okay—?” </em>
</p><p>He hung up. He toed into his shoes, tugging them on harsh, and zipped his jacket. As he patted down to feel for his own keys, he felt Kakeru’s dig into him.</p><p><em> Moron, </em> he thought, reaching for the door and twisting the knob. <em> He’s probably not going to realize until— </em></p><p>He swung the door open, and immediately he was met with a drenched figure and its raised hand, open-palmed and jolting with a startle. As it instead threatened to hit Yuki in the chest, he grabbed the wrist, alarmed.</p><p><em> “Ow, </em>Yuki—”</p><p>The rain beat down in a torrent. </p><p>Yuki looked down at the hand, now curled as it tried to leave his grasp.</p><p>Its side was smudged with graphite.</p><p>—</p><p>Yuki stared at his bedroom ceiling. </p><p>His apartment had fallen quiet and dark. There was the low rumble of the dryer in the room over, falling into the white noise of the complex, interrupted only by the errant scrape of metal to the drum. Late-night drivers rolled down his street, humming past and granting a brief stripe of light through the gap in his blinds, sliding slow along his wall until it was left dark again. </p><p>The rain had stopped, leaving behind only the sound of droplets falling from the roofside to the walk.</p><p>Out in the living room, Kakeru was asleep. Curled up on the couch, under a blanket Yuki had pulled from his closet, in dry clothes that Yuki had passed onto him through the bathroom door as he toweled his soaked hair. He had grinned in thanks, cheeks and ears still burned with cold, before bristling with another chill.</p><p>Yuki had only glanced at the goosebumps rolling over his chest and stomach before he turned away to prep the couch. It was as he was tossing the blanket over the couch’s side that Kakeru reappeared wearing one of his old t-shirts and extra sleep pants. Hair damp and mussed. The dark hair on his arms still standing on end.</p><p>Yuki shifted to his side, scrubbing at his eyes, burying them into his pillow with a frustrated noise.</p><p>Kakeru was out there, sleeping in his clothes. </p><p>It was pathetic how that thought kept him awake. How it burned a hole in his stomach. </p><p>He had finally insisted that he stay the night. Made some dumb remark about an old myth, supersitions about getting caught in a downpour. Kakeru had taken to it easily enough — he had already started taking off his shoes, socks squelching against the entrance tile, by the time Yuki had finished the word <em> stay.  </em></p><p>And this was what Yuki was repaid with. Tossing and turning for over an hour. The plague of thoughts that only amounted to <em> and now he’s here again, and he’s wearing your clothes. </em></p><p>Maybe it wasn’t true hospitality if it was born out of selfish reasons.</p><p>Maybe this was just a consequence for his hubris. </p><p>He hadn’t even planned what would happen if Kakeru <em> did </em>agree to stay.</p><p>He shifted again to lie on his back. The ceiling stared back down at him. With a slow inhale, he raised his hands again to his eyes, shoving the heels of his palms to them as he held his breath and tried, again, to rewrite his thoughts.</p><p>
  <em> Kakeru’s asleep in the living room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He’s borrowing my clothes for the night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He always checks for his keys before he leaves. </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>By the time Yuki woke, Kakeru was already gone. The sky was bright with mid-morning. Cloudless, and fair, leaving little evidence of the night before.</p><p>He checked the dryer and found it emptied. He looked out at the balcony and found rainwater pooled in the planters, the sunlight reflected in gentle spots on his living room ceiling. Everything much quieter than when he had eventually fallen asleep. Peaceful. Miserable.</p><p>The blanket he had pulled from storage was folded loose on the arm of the couch. Beside it was the pillow he had lent, sat into the gentle imprint left behind in the cushions. On top of the pillow was his shirt and sleep pants, folded, imperfected by a gentle dip in the center, created by what Yuki imagined was Kakeru’s hand settling them there some hours ago.</p><p>He stared at the small pile and let the scene wake him fully. He reached his hand out to take them, to put them away and with them the thoughts he had failed to silence, but he stopped once his fingertips touched the cooled impression left behind on the front of his shirt.</p><p>Kakeru had slept there.</p><p>He had worn his clothes.</p><p>Only his imprint was left behind.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello everyone -- times are quite isolating right now, so i figured i would finish something lonely and yearning that's been sitting in my drafts for a while. hope you're all doing well and taking care of yourselves in the ways you're able. </p><p>some tunes:</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uDwVMcEHG70">hannah hunt - vampire weekend</a> / <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ag2LVnpoRpU">souk eye - gorillaz</a> / <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9X1C7pTu-M">space song - beach house</a>.</p><p>hmu @ yunsoh.tumblr.com</p><p>-abby</p></blockquote></div></div>
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